


Letting Go

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne finally understands how powerful grief can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

Ariadne sat on the floor of the empty kitchen, cross-legged. Her feet were bare, her jeans were frayed, her layers of tops were askew and tears had dried on her cheeks. She hadn't bothered to comb her hair in she-didn't-know-how-long, and she clutched a ratty teddy bear to her chest. It had been hers once upon a time, when she was young and had thought her parents were invincible and could keep the dark things at bay. But then they had started to argue, her father started to drink, her mother started growing distant, and she retreated into school and her studies. Escaping them with school as soon as she could had been her way to cope for as long as she could remember.

But now there was no more schooling to hide behind. She was done with school, she had been working in dream share for a few years and she didn't have to worry about bills. If anything, having three apartments scattered around the world should have helped her to feel safe. Arthur had helped her to set them up after all, and had showed her the ins and outs of maintaining cover identities for the apartments and how to move about safely. Ariadne shouldn't have had a problem avoiding the notice of the shadier elements in dream share, but it never hurt to be careful. Even if she was out of the business, her association with Dom, Arthur and Eames could have consequences. She could become a pawn, a negotiable object that any opponent would seize on, or worse find herself outclassed and outgunned in an attempt to save their skins. Arthur wasn't willing to entertain the possibility that she would be harmed in their line of work.

"Ariadne."

Ignoring the voice behind her, Ariadne held onto the bear tighter. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled up around it, feeling the twinge in her belly that she really shouldn't have felt. There had been nothing to feel, not really; a handful of cramps had signaled the end of everything, no pressure, no pain. Just cramps and then blood.

It was over. She shouldn't have thought she could have more than this. She shouldn't have tempted fate. The darkness always came back. Her parents had shown her that.

Shadows crept in from the corners of the kitchen, and she could feel it even with her eyes closed. It was cold, like icy fingers along her skin, but it didn't numb the pain around her heart. No, that pain wouldn't go away so easily.

_"Ariadne."_

No, she wasn't going to listen. All he had to say were platitudes like _It's going to be okay_ or _We'll try again_ or _We didn't know the somnacin was that dangerous…_

She should have known better. The only way to escape the darkness was to keep working, keep moving. She shouldn't have grown so complacent. No, no, no.

Ariadne let her mind fixate on the discomfort in her lower back and abdomen. She should have known. She should have paid more attention. There should have been _some_ reluctance to take up the needle and go under, to let the somnacin flood her system.

There was the sound of someone falling to their knees behind her. By the voice and the pressure of hands on her shoulders, Ariadne knew it was Arthur. He had always been there for her, from the very beginning. It made sense that he would want to be here now, even if she didn't want it.

It had taken close to three years for them to move beyond the fleeting kiss of the Fischer job and longing looks. They were close friends, knew each other inside and out, and the transition to lovers had been so amazingly _graceful_. Ariadne should have known that something bad had to happen; her luck simply was not this good.

"Please don't do this, Ariadne," Arthur pleaded with her, dropping his chin to the top of her head. He tried to wrap his arms around her, to give her his warmth, support and love. But she had retreated from him, knowing she didn't deserve it. She hadn't ever, really, but she had been willing to overlook it until now, burrowing her head in the sand and pretending that maybe, just maybe, she deserved a little bit of happiness after all.

But then she killed her baby. _Their baby._

"Don't leave me," Arthur whispered into her hair, rubbing at her arms. "Don't do this, don't torture yourself this way. We didn't know. No one's ever studied the drugs, there was no way to predict something like this could happen. Ariadne, please listen to me. Don't push me away like this. You have to come back with me. Grieve with me. We have to do this together."

She was darkness, a contagion that blighted everything she touched. It had started when she was so young, and she hadn’t know what it meant then. Her parents couldn't fight it off, and it infected everything sooner or later. There was no escaping it unless she fell into dreams. That had worked for Cobb, after all. Then she couldn't contaminate Arthur further. She was doing him a kindness. He might not realize it, but he was better off without her. He could find someone whole, not shattered, not caught up in the dark.

"I watched Dom destroy himself for years because he couldn't let go of his grief," Arthur continued, voice laced with pain and anguish. "I won't do it again. I can't."

"You should leave," Ariadne said, voice cracked and rusty-sounding from disuse.

"I can't. I'd rather stay in here with you than face reality alone."

New tears, and a keening sound of anguish ripped out from the depths of her soul. No, she didn't want to pollute him. "You can't stay with me. _I killed our baby."_

"If you did, then I helped," Arthur said, his hands tightening on her arms. "I got us that job. I pushed you to do the mazes that night even though you said you were feeling queasy. I told you it would be easy, and we could relax after it was over. If you're going to hate yourself for pushing the button, then hate me for sliding the needle in. Hate me for making you take the drug."

Ariadne nearly howled. Because there was sense in that, too. But if she acknowledged that he shared in the blame, she would have to realize she wasn't entirely at fault. That she wasn't evil or corrupt. That it was simply a horrible accident, circumstances beyond their control, that there was no such thing as darkness hanging over head and contaminating her every attempt at happiness.

She wasn't ready to let go of that. It was so much easier to hate herself, blame herself. It was so much less horrible than losing her child to a _mistake._

"Why won't you hate me, Ariadne?" Arthur whispered into her ear, refusing to let her dislodge his grip around her. "It's just as much my loss as yours, my fault as yours. _We didn't even know you were pregnant._ And we didn't know about Somnacin. Don't do this."

She couldn't let go of the idea that this was her fault. She caused this. She didn't deserve to be happy. She didn't get to feel complete.

"Come back with me. Talk with me. Talk _to_ me. Hit me. Whatever the hell you need to do, you do it. I won't watch you die in pieces like this. I can't do this again."

"So walk away." 

"Never." His voice was as fierce as anything, the tone he usually used to maintain his resolve on a difficult job. "I made you a promise, Ariadne. I will love, honor, keep and protect you. That means even from yourself. Even from me, if that's what it takes. I promised you my life, Ariadne, and I _will not go back on that promise."_

"I'm a murderer…"

"And so am I," he said calmly, holding onto her tightly when she tried to throw him off again. "So I know what I'm dealing with. I know what I'm getting myself into. And I will _never_ leave you, and _never_ forget this." His hands slid down until they were linked with hers. "I'll never know what it felt like for you, but you're not alone, Ariadne. You'll never be alone in this."

"We never… Children would make it horrible to work…"

"I didn't know I wanted this until we lost the chance," he said softly. Stunned, she turned in his arms and looked at his face intently. He was being serious. He was honest about what he wanted and what he allowed himself to have.

And he wanted a family. He wanted _her._ In spite of this, in spite of all the self recriminations and the feeling that she was inadequate and monstrous, Arthur still loved her. Still wanted her with him. Still meant every word he had promised her.

She let him cradle her in his arms as she cried, howling for her loss and her pain and the misery she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the real world. This didn't change anything, didn't bring back the baby she had just lost.

But maybe, just maybe, she could let him grieve with her.

The End


End file.
